


The Internet loves the Katsuki-Nikiforovs and Here's Why...

by MarcarellaPizza



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Family Fluff, Gen, Humor, Kid Fic, M/M, Post-Canon, YouTube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27724069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcarellaPizza/pseuds/MarcarellaPizza
Summary: Years after leaving the competetive world of figure skating, the Katsuki-Nikiforovs remain in the lime light, but for an entirely different reason.Now, with both Yuuri and Viktor returning to the ice as coaches for the next generation of skaters, it's up to their daughter to retain the name in fame - through Youtube!
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Kudos: 91





	The Internet loves the Katsuki-Nikiforovs and Here's Why...

**Author's Note:**

> I'm REALLY proud of this one hehehehe...

“Hi! Pat Rice here!” The girl calls cheerily, a hand waving at the camera as she sits cross legged in the Kotatsu in the living room. Viktor pauses his dusting — a habit he’d picked up on when he’d have nothing to do, pink frilly apron and gloves snapped to his body like a second skin. The feather duster is rainbow, matching the sparkly clips that pin his fringe back in a rather unflattering manner.

“Pat Rice?” He asks, eyebrow quirking to the back of his daughter’s head. He pauses his useless dusting to investigate what she’s doing.

“Papaaaaaaa you ruined the intro.” She whines, turning to face him. “Oh well, the internet can just see you in that maid outfit.”

His selective hearing zones in on one word; internet, before he practically drops everything and vaults himself over the kotatsu to grab the 12 year old by the arms. “Patrice Katsuki-Nikiforova, you wouldn’t dare post anything with me looking like a middle aged housewife from a 90s anime, you wouldn’t!”

Patrice tilts her head, pretending to ponder over the request. It’s clear that this isn’t going to work out in Viktor’s favour.

“I personally think my 7 million subscribers will love this look.” She grins, turning towards the camera to wink. Her mouth curves into a heart shaped smile as her warm brown eyes sparkle. “I suppose Papa has joined me for the beginning of this video instead!”

“7 million?!”

Viktor’s eyes return to the camera, widening as he registers the ‘on’ button flashing. In seconds, he strips the gloves off, rips the ribbon of the apron and practically throws the sparkly hair clip to who knows where; his practiced hand cards through silver strands and perfects his signature look within seconds.

“Papa is obsessed with his hair you see.” Patrice explains seriously, turning to her father in order to do a once over. “He’s actually thinning, dad reckons he’s got only a few months left before he starts balding.” She pats the back of his head reassuringly as Viktor’s jaw drops to the floor.

“Yuuri said that?!” He shrieks, hands swatting away the younger girl’s as he tries to protect the locks. “Rika you’re exposing me in front of millions of people?!”

“They already know who you are.” She rolls her eyes, turning back to the lens, “Half of them are are your skating fans!”

Viktor almost wishes the ground could open up and swallow him whole.

“Does dad know you’re doing… this YouTube gig?” He asks slowly, curiously eyeing the setup. He hadn’t even been aware that they’d  _ owned _ a studio light until now.

“Kinda, Uncle Phichit and Yuyu bought the camera and other stuff.” She explains, hand waving. “Now anyways, as I was saying — welcome to a new video! Today we are going to be planking for as long as physically possible. I  _ was _ gonna ask dad but seeing as Papa is here I suppose he can do it instead.”

Viktor isn’t looking at the camera, he’s too busy staring off into space. “Phichit and Yura bought her… what on earth?... Your uncles bought you all this?” He vocalised, confused, “When? And how long have you been on YouTube? You’re like… 12.”

“I’m pretty sure Yuyu doesn’t like being called an uncle cause he says he isn’t an old man.” Patrice reminds the Russian, “And uh… four months ago?”

“Four months ago?!” Viktor repeats, astounded, “The world sure is populating fast… either that or you stole all my fans.”

“Mmmm, not just yours — dad’s too.” She shrugs, hand waving, “Okay, now we’re gonna do planking! So uppy, uppy!” Patrice claps her hands, tugging at Viktor’s sleeve.

“Planks? What? Why me?! You wanted Yuuri before, get him!”

“Too late Papa, come on, Pat Rice needs her content.” Viktor groans, allowing himself to be tugged by his daughter. When he first welcomed her into the world (after crying and thanking Katsuki Mari profusely) he'd never would have guessed that this is where his life would end up.

“Why are you calling yourself Pat Rice?!”

* * *

“So as you can see, this is Papa’s very squishy butt that I’m sitting on.” Patrice begins, turning the camera around in hand to reveal the ground beneath her.

Spoiler alert: it’s not the ground, it’s Viktor, who’s red faced and sweating as he holds his body rigid over a chair.

“I’m dying!!!” He screams, determined to hold the position. Patrice fumbles with the camera before reaching over for a bottle of water.

“Papa has been in this position for about 30 seconds. To beat his record from when he was 15–“

“I’m fucking 45!” Comes the pathetic wail, topped off with what starts to sound like sobs. “Oh my god I really am old!”

“Want some water Papa?” Patrice asks sweetly. Viktor makes a garbled sound that can only be taken as a plead.

“Okay, here, I can’t really put it in your mouth so…” and the bottle is emptied into his head, splattering into hard wooden floors.

“Oh thank god, I thought my head was going to explode.” Viktor groans. Patrice pats his back in condolence before shrieking loudly.

“Ew! You’re back’s all sweaty!” 

“I’ve been planking for 20 minutes! OF COURSE IM SWEATING!”

“It’s actually been a minute and a half—“

“You’re lying!”

There’s a distant thud as a door is pushed closed, and an echo as the locking mechanism clicks into place.

“Hello? Vitya? Rika? You guys home?” 

Yuuri!

“I’M HERE!” Viktor screams, still stubborn enough to keep up the plank. He’s not doing so well, he’s shaking like a leaf.

“Vitya? What’s going— oh! Hi you two… what are you…” his eyes trail to the recording device in his daughter’s grip, “—doing?”

“Filming.” Patrice responds seriously, pointing the lens towards Yuuri, “This could have been you Dad, if only you hadn’t gone shopping.”

“Well unfortunately  _ someone _ didn’t want to do their weekly chore.” Yuuri bemuses, looking pointedly at a red faced Viktor.

“I was dusting!” He defends.

“For those of you who don’t know, Papa only dusts things when he’s bored and has nothing to do. It’s his excuse for getting out of shopping day.” Patrice commentates.

“Yuuri, tell your daughter to get off me so I can stop this plank.” Viktor wheezes, lifting his head up as best he can.

Yuuri sighs, slowly stepping towards them as he crouches to be eye level with his husband. “Viktor are you… are you  _ crying _ ?”

“No!” Viktor wails, sniffling a bit, “My abs hurt.”

“What abs Papa? You haven’t done any exercise since the day I was born.”

“Oh snap.” Yuuri whispers to himself.

“So mean!” Viktor pouts, bottom lip stick outward, it doesn’t do anything to help him though.

“I love you so much Vitya.” Yuuri cooes, pressing a chaste kiss to the other’s lips before moving to stand.

“Wait— Yuuri!”

“Have fun Pat Rice, I’m sure the video will be very entertaining.” 

“YUURI!”

“Bye dad!” Patrice grins, hand waving.

Viktor squeals as he watches his last hope leave. “Why? Why are you so cruel? My own daughter, my own blood!”

“Because you didn’t help with the shopping.” She simply replies, “That and this is entertaining. Besides, you could just give up on the plank—“

“Never!” Viktor cries out, “The rule was you get off me, I’m not quitting until I win! Hit me with water!”

The new and abrupt determination confuses Patrice but she complied anyway, dumping a second bottle of water all over her father’s head.

“I swear I’m gonna die!”

* * *

“Hey Dad come here!” Patrice calls out. The camera is currently balanced on its tripod as she waves Yuuri over from where she’s still perched.

Viktor is still in the plank position, still red faced, and most definitely crying.

“Why is he still doing that?” Yuuri sighs, “Vitya you can stop planking.”

“I need to beat my previous record!” Viktor retorts, “I’m so close I may as well! Besides, my muscles already died hours ago.”

“I didn’t tell him,” Patrice whispers, “But he actually beat his record 22 minutes ago… I guess all the blood rushing to his head made him lose focus?”

Yuuri stares blankly at his daughter, unamused. “Please help Papa stop being an idiot.” He mutters, “We know he isn’t the brightest star save his hair—“

“—Hey!”

“— but he’s too stubborn for his own good.”

Patrice shrugs and wanders over.

“KANCHŌ!” She yells, and then Viktor yells, and then there’s a rather tall Russian sprawled across the floor as he jumps into the air out of shock.

“Yuuri! She poked my butt!” Viktor wheezes, inhaling sharply, “Oh my god my muscles are  _ cramping _ … I think I’m dying.”

“Welcome to my world once a month.” Patrice mumbles under her breath. Yuuri laughs adoringly.

“ _ Your _ world?! I FEEL LIKE MY ORGANS ARE SQUEEZING THEMSELVES TO DEATH! I’m not a tube of toothpaste dumb muscles!”

“You just need a heat pack Papa. A heat pack and a  _ lot _ of painkillers to help—“

“How would  _ you _ know how I feel?” Viktor sobs, body curled up into a fetal position as he rolls into his side. “This is unbearable!”

“My papa everyone.” Patrice sighs, sharing a look with her more sane dad, “Um… what now?”

“He’ll get over it.” Yuuri shrugs his shoulders, just leave him there.”

“What?! No!” Viktor’s desperate please for help go unanswered as Yuuri and Patrice vacate the area.

“I have a good idea for what we can do until he’s back.” 

Yuuri likes to consider himself a tech guru, someone who can potentially figure out how to do things so long as they’re labelled or colour coded. He takes pride in the fact that he remembers how to set up the PlayStation 4 and the Virtual Reality headset.

“See? Dad’s really smart. He can do stuff like this.” Patrice gushes, settling the camera down beside the motion camera for the game. She adjusts it so they both fit with room to spare before stepping back.

“Thank you Rika, now how about you have a turn first?”

“No you go, I wanna watch.” 

In he background, there’s the faintest wailing of a dying cat. “Don’t worry,” Patrice reassures her audience, “That isn’t Yuyu’s cat— that’s Papa, he’s still crying about his non-existent abs and muscle cramps.”

Yuuri snorts before jamming the headset on his head, and then they begin to play Minecraft.

It isn't long before both Patrice and Yuuri are tuckered out from playing Minecraft in VR, and Viktor’s wailing had finally reduced to quiet mumbling with the occasional “My family doesn’t love me.”

His petulance was starting to get annoying.

“Papa! Come play minecraft with us!” Patrice yells across the house. Yuuri would admonish her for not using her inside voice but right now he couldn’t care less— his husband was a bigger concern.

“No!” Viktor bites back, and Yuuri can practically  _ hear _ the pout. “Not until you promise cuddles!”

“Yes Vitya.” Yuuri sighs exasperatedly, “Cuddles and a movie after dinner — now come help Pat Rice with her video.”

The camera is shoved into Viktor’s face the second he bounds in. The digital screen reveals the four secret chins that the internet has never seen before and for the sake of her poor father, she refuses to mention anything.

“Put this on.” She commands him, thrusting the headset into his hands. She brushes aside her honey coloured hair, a true odd mix of both her Japanese and Russian fathers, and grins as she sneaks Yuuri a look at the unflattering angle of Viktor’s stubble and chins.

“Oh, so very sexy.”

“What?” Viktor asks, turning around to try and guess where his husband might be. He tries to walk towards them but instead miss calculates, face slamming into the opposing wall as the VR headset slips from his face.

“MY NOSE!”

“THE WALL!” 

“MY VR!” 

The headset is thankfully undamaged, and the wall makes it out with a new dent. As for Viktor’s nose, it’s fine; the only thing bruised now is his ego and reputation

“The internet is gonna love that.” Patrice grins.  
  


“Please.” Viktor warily sighs, he doesn’t remember social media  _ ever _ being this exhausting. Is this what it’s like to be…  _ old? _

Somewhere in his brain he can hear Yuri Plisetsky laughing at his misfortune.

“Please.” He pleads again, hands clasped in prayer, “Something easy… to finish this video of yours. Something… talking? I’m good at interviews, fantastic even! I could talk for days! I beg you Rika!”

The daughter’s eyes twinkle with mischief — true to her father’s exacerbated ways, “Sure.” She agrees, a telltale smirk spreading across her features, causing both fathers to instantly become wary, “A Q and A it is!”

A Q and A? How hard could that  _ possibly _ be?

“Who would be most likely to lick peanut butter off of the other’s armpit?”

He was wrong. So very wrong. VIktor was used to the intensity of interviews, he’d have answers prepared for the most complex of questions. He could answer what his future dreams were (Patrice and Yuuri), what his favourite thing to do was (spending time with Patrice and Yuuri), or even what his younger self may have thought about 45 year old Viktor in the present.

Apparently, the internet doesn’t care much for his career anymore — it makes sense he supposes, and now they want to know if either he or his husband would lick a peanut butter armpit.

“Viktor.” Yuuri says instantly, smirking at the other’s protest, “Because I know for a fact that Viktor has a food kink.”

“YUURI!”

“DAD!” Patrice snorts, wheezing. She sits up right, snickering behind her hand. “Wait… what’s a kink?”

* * *

“Okay, so next time I’ll be vlogging my day at DisneyLand With Yuyu and Beka.” Patrice tells the camera, “I’m very good at getting Yuyu to spend money on me.”

“You should not be proud of that.” Yuuri says in the distance.

“You don’t complain when I do it to Papa.” She points out smuggly. Yuuri merely stands in the background, nodding.

“Touche, you may continue.”

“Thank you.” Patrice begins, “So yes, that will be up next week, and then I have some more fun stuff planned with Uncle Chris and Uncle Phicht… and then I wanna ask Mila and Georgi… Oh! Maybe Yakov and Lilia!”

The camera shakes as it’s repositioned, and Patrice leaves the frame for a moment to find her Papa. “Say goodbye to Youtube!” She waves, and Viktor and Yuuri join her in smiling. “I love having a famous figure skating family.” She jokes, “I’m Pat Rice and this has been a day with my Papa and Dad! You may recognise them as Grand Prix finalists and Olympic gold medalists, but here, we expose the truths.”

She crawls to the camera lens, winking and smiling a heart shaped smile — the infamous traits of both her fathers. “And remember skaters! One like equals one Viktor chin!”

Yuuri chokes on his spit, bursting into laughter and Viktor conveniently goes deaf.

“What’s Pat Rice?!”

* * *

++++ BONUS++++

* * *

“Pat Rice here and today I have Yuyu and Beka!”

The camera pans shakily to see the backs of the two ex-skaters, deep in conversation as they walk ahead. Patrice zooms in on their interlocked hands. “Oh my god so cute!” She whispers, “My family is soooooo gayyyyyy.”

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree Pat.” Yuri turns around, smirking. His taller frame surpases Otabek’s but he leans against him anyway. “Your tiny legs are so slow, come ’ere.”

It’s a game of which genes are going to be the dominant others at this point; neither knowing if she’ll be tall like her Papa or slightly shorter like her Dad. So far it looks like Yuuri’s are winning.

Patrice grins as the blonde moves to pick her up, laughing delightedly as she positions the camera to squish into Yuri’s face. 

“Aw, you don’t have any extra chins.”

“Because I’m not old like Vitya.” Yuri snorts, pausing to jolt the girl upwards and reposition her.

“He’s still self-conscious he’ll ald though.” Otabek winks, and Patrice gasps as Yuri sticks out his tongue. “Don’t tell him I said this, it’s a secret okay?” Otabek whispers to the camera, and Patrice nods eagerly. “Yuri insists he carries you because he’s in denial that you’re growing up.”

“It’s not a secret if you whisper that into my fucking ear Beka.” Yuri snorts, rolling his eyes.

“Well Pat’s camera was there, not my problem.”

The eventually continue to walk the small path in order to make it to the ticket booth of the theme park, and Patrice is allowed onto the ground once they reach the turnstiles. “Papa almost cried when he couldn’t drop me off.” Patrice informs the two.

“Yeah but when does he not cry.”

“Cue Viktor NIkiforov limited edition crying compilation.” Patrice whispers, just loud enough for Otabek to hear.

“You should have seen him on the ice after he met your Dad.” Otabek says, “Every competition was tears after that.”

While it had been a good 15 years since Viktor and Yuuri had last been on the ice, and a little less for the rest of the other skaters, they’d still been very active in the skating community, some of her family taking up coaching gigs or choreography. Yuri and Beka had gone into commentating.

“I dare you.” Patrice grins, “To give me a shout out next time you commentate the Nishigoris.”

“Well we can’t back down from a dare now can we?” Yuri snorts, “Consider it done.”

Patrice fistbumps the air as they enter the theme park.

“Okay so Yuyu, we gotta take pictures with Mickey Mouse before we do anything else.”

Yuri groans, he knew this was coming; he only wishes he could tell his 15 year old self that  _ this _ was what the Ice Tiger of Russia would become. “Pat, it’s some creepy dude wearing a sweating fursuit, why the fuck am I doing that?”

“Prosperity!” Otabek grins, tugging his boyfriend’s arm, “Come on Yura, let’s find mouse ears.”

“This vlog is for you Yuri’s Angels.” Patrice whispers as Yuri finally concedes. Otabek is shown to wrap his arms around the taller in a hug. “And Otayuri fans.”

Someone, somewhere in the world, there are millions of skating fans who are screeching at their web browsers, excited that  _ finally _ , their beloved skaters are making a return through the most iconic skater duo’s daughter’s Youtube.

“Oh my god you’re Yuri Plisetsky and Otabek Altin!” The shop-keeper exclaims once they make their way to check out. Patrice beams up at the lady who squeals again once recognising the child. “I’ve been a huge fan of you guys for years.”She gushes, “I think Viktor visited my daughter’s highschool for a presentation on perseverance a couple years ago.”

“That sounds like Vitya.” Yuri snorts, tone going unnoticed.

“Well, thank you for blessing my day.” The lady continues, handing their their purchases, “Enjoy the rest of your day here!”

They leave the small store, mouse ears equipped, as Otabek pulls out the park map. “I bet Dad and Papa are so jealous they can’t be here right now.” Patrice laughs, peering at the paper in Otabek’s hands. “We need Mickey Mouse!”

“Well it was their choice to become coaches.” Yuri shrugs.

“And it was your choice to come here to spend money on me.” The girl laughs, leading the way forward. Yuri exchanges a look with Otabek.

“She got you there.”

“Shut up.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you so so so much for reding my work! Honestly I'm not entirely sure why anyone bothers too becasue I write a lot fo strange shit but here we are :D


End file.
